


A Dependence on Wings

by My_Soul_and_Perfume



Series: Power Play [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: BDSM, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Romance, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 22:58:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14483055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Soul_and_Perfume/pseuds/My_Soul_and_Perfume
Summary: A lesson on trust: When to fall.





	A Dependence on Wings

**Author's Note:**

> This story doesn't have a specific canon for any movie, but if you want, maybe it can be an alternate universe. It's all up to you.

            I spread my legs for you because I know I can trust you. And there it is in all its power and glory, the source of all the aching in my hips and lower back.

            When I let my knees fall slack, the burn spreads through the rest of my body. I moan and tip my head back onto your shoulder.

            My senses have been dependent on hearing since you blindfolded me; my body has learned to adjust its pitch and volume at the sound of your gravelly voice. It always feels good to know that we are one; that we are tame, but explicit. It sends shivers down my spine.

            Then your hand slides down my stomach, reaches between my legs, and _pumps_. I arch my back as electricity jolts through me.

           “Do you feel good?”

           “I feel so good.”

            My heart beats like a drum—but not in my chest, no. In your hand. Its temperament depends on you.

            I have always been a slow burn compared to your early bloom, yet we always manage to play the same tempo. Even now, your erection weeps and ruts against me like the very first time we stood naked, chest to chest.

            Soon, my breath becomes dizzy and I begin to feel lightheaded. The room feels like a sauna, though we are nowhere near a smoldering flame just yet. Your metal hand fingering me open makes sure of that.

           “Do I make you feel good?”

           “So good.”

            I try breathing through my nose to settle down, but your fingers slip deeper and _croon_ and then I’m jolting in your arms and calling to the Heavens.

           “Don’t come.”

           “I won’t come.”

            Then you pause. I hear the waves distantly crashing on the beach.

           “Bucky,” I pant.

           “You’re crying.”

           “Wait, please. Don’t move your hands. I don’t want to feel empty. I’m just afraid to take what I want. I’m afraid that if I fall, I’ll shatter.”

           “But you know I’ll catch you.”

           “I know you’ll catch me.”

            You pump your hand as another wave rises: kiss my wet cheeks as another tear falls. Your fingers inside me work diligently, and I shudder knowing they are the same cold digits that can wrap around my neck perfectly, just to squeeze until I feel grounded.

            My hips are starting to ache. I swirl them, circle them, undulate them to find some relief.

           “Are you ready for me?”

           “I’m ready.”

            You transition onto your knees and gather me close with both arms. Your hand is no longer pumping my sex, but the ache is constantly there, nonetheless. It won’t be insatiable for long.

            I lay my hands flat on the comforter, adjusting my limbs until I feel the comfort of your erection nestled between my flesh.

 _Drip. Drip. Drip._ My falling tears sound like raindrops hitting the ground. You are the thunder that rumbles through me as you begin penetrating my body; the mattress is quaking with the force of your thrusts.

 _Drip. Drip. Drip_. Oh, look at what you’ve done to me. Look at what you’ve done. Now I’m weeping for you too. I spread my legs for you, then you reach between my legs and _pump_. You extract the essence from my body like sucking moisture from a dewy flower.

            We are in paradise as we transcend into brutal carnality. Paradise surrounds us and our little home; our bedroom of floor to ceiling windows. I can see the silhouette of our bodies fucking and there is nothing more powerful than knowing I have created what is happening now; nothing more powerful than knowing you have chosen my body as a vessel to release your burdens inside: not just burdens. Love. Passion.

          “Oh, fuck! Tony!” you wail. Your voice is hoarse. Ruined. I have ruined you—oh, God.

           “Does that feel good? Do I make you feel good? You know I’ll catch you. So go ahead and fall.”

            Nothing can prepare me for the head-on collision with pleasure, as I orgasm and clench around you to pull you deeper; for the beautiful moans that fall from your lips as your come spills inside me; for the bountiful ropes of white that my body expels; for the perfect pain of my back arching and my head snapping; for the guttural moan that escapes my lungs.

            After moments—seconds—minutes—hours—an eternity, I finally feel like I’m coming down to Earth, but this time, it’s a controlled descent. I have you by my side; we share a pair of wings.

           “You caught me.”

           “I caught you.”

            And there is nothing more powerful than a storm that can control the waves.

**Author's Note:**

> Your comments are my lifeline <3
> 
> [Find me on tumblr!](my-soul-and-perfume.tumblr.com)


End file.
